Untitled **incomplete**
by SaiyVegetto
Summary: Chey Harsey was a fighter pilot in high standing in his squadron, but he had an interesting hobby. *I wouldn't mind some help naming the story and figuring out where it's going to go next. Any suggestions you may have would be taken into consideration.*


The flicker of laser fire briefly lit the night sky, outshining the stars for brilliant milliseconds before fading away in the duller orange light of an explosion. There was a battle going on in space. Dozens of small ships flitted about each other spewing deadly scarlet light and disappearing in brilliant conflagrations of molten durasteel. They fought around two larger ships, which were randomly firing at each other and the smaller ships with much more powerful lasers. The two larger capitol ships were not so dissimilar from each other, except one was badly damaged. Small fires could be seen in some of the viewports, and one engine was sputtering and spewing puffs of smoke as it tried to maintain it's position. The starfighters continued to zip this way and that around their larger counterparts. Suddenly, several fighters broke away from the attack and flew at one of the frigates. It fired relentlessly at the few fighters that were pursuing the ones that had broken off. Sensing something was amiss, the other fighters began swarming in the general direction of the rogues. Just as suddenly, the rogues reversed their course and flew straight at the other frigate. As this happened, half of the other starfighters followed the few rogues. The other half was momentarily confused until they noted the course of their bogeys and heard a surprised cry coming from their comm units. The one-and-a-half dozen fighters that had ceased firing upon the other fighters began pummeling the frigate. A few of the guns on the larger ship found their mark, and either disabled or destroyed their targets. But it wasn't enough. The conditions of the two capitol ships seemed to even out, and then reverse places. Even though the fighters that were supposed to be defending the frigate were in fact doing that, they couldn't do much as the opposing frigate limped up and began filling the void with the disabling blue beams of ionized energy. Most of the beams hit the second capitol ship, but a few of them struck fighters, which either went ballistically into the planet, or simply slammed into whatever was in front of them. The aggressor stopped firing for a moment, seeming to offer the defender the chance to run. Instead, it had let all of it's weapons charge for one final volley into the already devastated frigate. Several of the shots pierced the hull at the rear striking the main reactor. All of the remaining fighters flew away from the dying ship in any available direction. Some were simply not fast enough and were caught in the miniature supernova. The shock wave rocked the victorious ship, but did no more damage than breaking a few more plates in the galley. The victorious fighters resumed their previous activity, though some of them made no real attempt at surviving. Most simply surrendered. * * * The hangar wasn't large as hangars go. It held two-dozen X-Wing class fighters on the deck and in ceiling racks. The floor, which was usually polished to a gleaming finish, was scuffed and littered with personal artifacts from prisoners, scrap metal that had been shaken loose, and other junk that had somehow found it's way to the hangar from whichever other deck or corridor. The enemy's ships were not quite as uniform as the Republic X-Wing fighters, though the racks could still hold the ships without a problem. Among the outdated X-Wings the pirate group was using, were some even older Z-95 Headhunters, which were essentially fixed-wing X-Wings, Y-Wings, and a few Hornet Interceptors, which took their name from the way they were designed. Or was it the other way around..? The X-Wings of both sides were given priority over the available hangar space, with Y-Wings next, followed by Hornets, and finally the Z-95s. Climbing out of their X-Wings, two pilots looked at each other and began to smile. "Good flying there, ace. Where'd you learn that snap-s-roll maneuver? Pretty impressive!" The pilot to whom that statement was directed looked over at his companion and grinned. "Which one? I think I pulled off variations of it while I dozed in the middle of that battle." With that the friends shared a laugh and clapped each other on the back. With their arms still on the other's shoulder, they walked through the hangar, which is where the enemy ships were being held, and the enemy pilots being brought into custody as prisoners of war. There were some external racks and emergency hatches that could hold extra ships in times like this, and any spare room in the cargo bay was put to good use. "So Chet, when are you going to take that furlough? Maybe I'll join you." Chet Harsy looked at his companion and considered the question. "I'm not sure. Maybe after we get this little mess cleaned up I can ask the commander if it would be okay for me to take a leave of absence. I think after this scuffle it would seem a reasonable enough request." Wes Furch nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I think I'll ask for the same. Though perhaps it would be a little wiser to ask at different times. A few hours apart so it doesn't seem as if we've been planning this. Saying the same thing would be okay though. It wasn't exactly a walk in the park." Seeing the grin on his friend's face, Wes knew that for Chet it actually was, but the other pilot was holding his tongue so as not to offend his companion. "It still wasn't a difficult battle, though," Wes threw in, perhaps a little too quickly. Chet simply broadened his smile and clapped his hand over his friend's shoulder again, and the two of them walked down to the pilot's quarters. Wes' quarters were on the way to Chet's, so Wes was the first one to begin fixing his room and ordering his belongings. Therefore he would probably be the first of the two to be granted his furlough. It was what Chet wanted though, as he had something he preferred to do in his quarters during the quiet times. He thought too many would think him foolish for pursuing something so seemingly outlandish, and always locked his door when he decided to work on this project. He was building a lightsaber. The schematics seemed simple enough, and with access to all kinds of mechanical pieces and tools, constructing it should not have been too difficult. During basic training, Chet had always found himself comfortable at hand to hand combat with a staff. He had also heard legends of a few of the evil Jedi. the Sith, were they. Who had constructed lightsabers that had energy blades on both ends of the handle, rather than the seemingly standard single-blade. After a little more searching, Chet had found what he desired: a schematic for a double- sided lightsaber. He had begun scavenging for parts almost immediately, and found his standard tool kit to be all he required. But something was still not right. He had been working on it in his free time for months now, and it looked to be a lightsaber, if not slightly longer in the handle than the few he had seen holos of. The only problem was, he could not ignite the blade on either end for some reason. He had scanned the HoloNet for a few weeks now checking for different versions of schematics. All of them were essentially the same except for a few wire placements or outer design differences. He had gotten two power sources that fit the requirements stated in the specifications perfectly, and yet it would still not ignite. He had found several different emitters and had tried different crystal placements, but all to no avail. He did not dare re-wire anything, due to the warnings in almost all of the schematics about faulty wiring causing lightsabers to explode and cause severe damage or death to the person attempting to wield it. And since this one was twice the size, it would likely go off with twice the bang. Removing the weapon from it's unmarked case, he sat dawn and began to disassemble it. He unscrewed the emitter, and gently removed the focusing crystal. He reached in and unhooked the latch that held the two halves of the case together, and opened it. The seeming chaos that was the wiring and electronics inside was actually very carefully orchestrated. Mumbling quietly to himself, he nudged the phase modifier aside and detached the power sources from their housings. He tested them by plugging them into a lamp and seeing if the light went on. It did both times. He picked up the focusing crystal and gently shined the light from the lamp through it. The light went in going in all directions, but came out a single focused beam of white light, much the same effect you would get by holding a magnifying glass to the sun/ focused beam of white light, a shade of white which only comes from a pure concentration of energy. He gently pushed wires aside and made sure the connections were correct. He switched the few wires that could be switched and secured the connections. Replacing all of the components, he latched the saber back together and stood up. He looked at the metal rod in his hand and saw the different connections made by the wires in his head. He could see where the phase modifier altered the path of the energy to limit the length of the blade. He could see where the energy entered the focusing crystal, and could even imagine how the photons looked and changed as they passed through the crystal. Imagining all the connections suddenly sparking to life and igniting a brilliant blade of pure energy, he pushed the button that was supposed to bring the saber to life. Nothing happened. Sighing, Chet returned the long handle to it's case. He closed it and put it back under his bunk. He returned the few personal effects that had been shaken loose during the battle to the places they belonged. Making sure the case was not visible, but not overly conspicuous should it be discovered, he left his room and made for the galley. * * * After a meal of freeze-dried rations that was labeled as nerf flank steak but tasted more like year-old nerf foot steak, Chet decided it was time to go see how Wes had done. Walking back down the corridor to the pilot's quarters, he bumped into Wes who was on his way back the way Chet had just come. "Hey, Wes! How'd it go with the commander? Going to take that vacation now, or are you still rotting here?" Wes looked at his friend glumly. "Well I went up there." Chet's happiness faded. "Oh no, what happened?" Wes looked at the deck and cleared his throat. "Well. He saw me come in and told me that I'm friends with the best pilot in the squadron." Chet scowled, sensing some kind of jab aimed at Wes' piloting skill coming. "Hey, look. If you want I can-" Wes cut him off with a shake of his head. "No, no. It's okay. He just told me that since I was such good friends with you he was going to give us furlough together." With that he looked up with a grin that could have swallowed both Death Stars whole and still left room for a Star Destroyer or two. Chet looked at him in disbelief, then jumped up and hugged his friend, laughing giddily. "That's great! He actually said that?!" Wes nodded enthusiastically and handed Chet a sheet of flimsiplast with the notice that they were allowed to take a leave of absence for outstanding combat skill. "So where are we going to go for this vacation? You do plan on coming with me, right?" "Of course! Who else would I go with? I'm not married." Wes took the sheet back and put it in the breast pocket of his flight suit. He considered the first question. "Well those damn Vong really have limited the places we would be able to go to peacefully. Let's consider our options. What fun planets are left?" 


End file.
